St Brutus's Program for Incurably Homosexual Boys
by Prophet-Z
Summary: CH 11 UP! When Uncle Vernon discovers that Harry's gay, he sends him to a summer program at St. Brutus's, which is more like a prison than a program. Things are manageable...until Harry is seduced and the very worst happens. SLASH HD. Angst.
1. Parting

This is yet another test fic that I'm doing. I hope you like it. It's rated R for language and violence now and, if it goes far enough, for slash later on (and maybe some non-consensual sex, depending on how it goes).  
  
It starts at the end of Harry's sixth year. Because I'm terrible at thinking up reasons for Harry and Draco to be together, just use your imagination and make up your own; they've already been together for about a year when this starts, so let's say they got together at the beginning of the year.  
  
St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Homosexual Boys... by AnonymousBystander  
  
Prologue - Parting  
  
Harry groaned as the Hogwarts Express thudded to a halt in platform Nine and Three-Quarters. A grim, set expression on his face, he turned away from the window to Ron and Hermione, and his boyfriend, Draco.  
  
"Is it time already?" he asked rhetorically, resigned to the inevitable parting that was soon to come.  
  
Draco nodded solemnly and walked across the compartment to sit next to him. Letting his head drop onto Draco's shoulder, he inhaled his boyfriend's scent. "Drake," he said into Draco's shoulder, "I'm going to miss you."  
  
Draco laughed mirthlessly. "No you won't," he said. "You're going to have so much fun with your Aunt and Uncle and cousing that you'll forget all about me by the time we come back in two months. I just don't want you to have TOO much fun, y'hear me?"  
  
Harry tried to laugh at Draco's sarcasm, but couldn't manage it. All that came out was sort of a dry gasp mixed with a cough.  
  
"Oi, you two lovebirds," Ron called, chuckling, "It's time to get off the train!"  
  
Slowly, Harry stood up and stretched, then summoned his trunk from the rack, his last chance to use magic before the summer holidays that would lead up until his seventh year and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
  
Harry knew that this summer would be an unbearable one. Apart from being away from his two best friends and boyfriend, he knew that the final battle with Voldemort was looming ever closer. Harry doubted that Voldemort would wait until after Harry was a fully qualified wizard.  
  
'A year from now,' Harry thought, 'either he'll be dead, or I will.'  
  
Draco, reading Harry's expression, held him by the shoulders and shook him gently. "Harry. I know what you're thinking. When it happens, I'll be there for you. I promise."  
  
Harry pulled Draco in for a hug, kissing him on the cheek. "Thanks, Drake," we whispered into Draco's ear.  
  
"Harryyy, Dracooo, let's goooo," Hermione sang at them impatiently, trying to stay standing as she held her trunk, the book she was reading on the train, and Crookshanks and his basket.  
  
Harry pulled away from Draco and grabbed his trunk, hoisting it out of the compartment and into the platform, where hundreds of Hogwarts students were greeting their relatives. Harry looked around briefly for Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia, but couldln't see them. Maybe they were late. Or better yet, maybe they'd forgotten about him and moved, so he would have to stay with Draco or Ron. He shook his head. No, they'd get here eventually. They always did.  
  
He put down his trunk and said his goodbyes to each of his friends in turn. Then he turned to Draco.  
  
"You better owl me every day, or you're dead," Harry said to him.  
  
"Only if you do," said Draco softly, caressing his cheek with one finger (A/N - sorry for the sappiness). They leaned for a kiss. Their lips met in an electrifying display of love, but it was over all to soon.  
  
"Love you," whispered Draco into Harry's ear.  
  
"Love you, too," said Harry softly gazing into Draco's stormy eyes.  
  
Then he broke off his gaze and turned around, unable to continue like that, lest he would not ever be able to leave Draco's side. He had only taken a few steps away from him when he heard a nastily familiar voice.  
  
"Oi! Boy! Get over here! Now!"  
  
Harry approached his Uncle Vernon, who was purple-faced and looked livid. Harry didn't understand what he'd done already to make Uncle Vernon so mad. He opened his mouth to ask, but Uncle Vernon just said, "Follow me, boy, now."  
  
He walked behind his uncle, bewildered, until they reached the car.  
  
"In," commanded Uncle Vernon harshly.  
  
Harry got into the passenger's side of the car, nervous now at what he could have possibly done to upset his uncle. Vernon got into the driver's seat and started up the car, face still purple, eyes bulging.  
  
As the car pulled out of the parking lot haphazardly, Uncle Vernon announced into the air, half stating, half questioning, "You're a fag."  
  
So this was what it was all about. Uncle Vernon must have seen Harry and Draco kissing. Harry groaned inwardly, but on the outside remained his composure. "Yes," he said with an air of defiance, avoiding his Uncle's menacing stare.  
  
"Well--" Uncle Vernon stammered. "Well--" There was silence. "Well--...well--...well--this explains quite a bit. I always thought you were a queer, with that _wand_ of yours and your m-m-magic."  
  
Harry said nothing.  
  
"Well--" said Uncle Vernon yet again, having difficulty composing another complete sentence. A sudden smile lit his face, which made Harry inwardly scream. He didn't like that smile. It was the kind of smile that Uncle Vernon got when he gave Dudley a particularly large present for no reason at all, smirking at Harry all the while, daring Harry to protest.  
  
But Harry said nothing. All he knew was that this smile was not good, and it was not good that Uncle Vernon was so angry when they were in a speeding car in the middle of the freeway.  
  
"Well, _boy," Vernon spat, "I have a nice little project for you over the summer. St. Brutus's has some wonderful summer programs, did you know that?"  
  
Harry's heart dropped through his stomach. He didn't know exactly what was coming, but it couldn't be good if it was at St. Brutus's.  
  
"I was just reading a brochure on it, boy, and they've got a program that I think will fit you nicely. Do you know what it's called, boy? It's called St. Brutus's Secure Program for Incurably Homosexual Boys." Vernon chuckled evilly, like a demonic kid at christmas time, staring at his pile of enourmas presents. "I think you'll have lots of fun this summer..."  
  
---  
  
Please, tell me what you think. Should I continue this, or is it a waste of time? Please, review! 


	2. Mr Devici

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I really do appreciate it greatly.  
  
I didn't put in a disclaimer last time because...well, if you're reading this, you already know what it says, so it's pointless.  
  
If you want to flame me, that's fine; I like constructive criticism. Just don't flame because it contains slash. That's just stupid. I won't stop writing it, and neither will anybody else.  
  
St. Brutus's Program for Incurably Homosexual Boys... by AnonymousBystander  
  
Chapter 1 - Mr. Devici  
  
"You, boy, in!"  
  
Harry called out in pain as he was thrown roughly into the cupboard under the stairs in Number Four, Privet Drive.   
  
Uncle Vernon stood outside, sillhouetted in the light from the pristinely clean hallway.  
  
Harry whipped out his wand, pointing it straight at Uncle Vernon's heart. "Move--out of the way," he growled at his large Uncle.  
  
Uncle Vernon's hand flashed forward, grasping Harry's wrist in a bone-cracking grip, forcing the wand tip towards the ceiling. Vernon squeezed harder, bending Harry's arm up, up, up... There was a sickening _crack_, and a searing pain shot up Harry's arm. He shouted in pain and dropped the wand, pulling his arm into his body, cradling it.  
  
Uncle Vernon grabbed at the wand, immediately holding it through his shirt, as though he was afraid that just by holding it he was exposing himself to the evil 'magic'.  
  
"I'll be seeing you soon, boy," Vernon spat, slamming the door to the cupboard shut and clicking the lock.  
  
Harry sat hunched in the darkness, cradling his aching arm. It was very cramped; Harry felt it was hard to believe that he'd ever slept in that tiny closet.  
  
Prodding his arm gently, Harry came to the conclusion that it was not broken, just sprained or possibly bruised.  
  
What could he do now? He was locked in a tiny, dark cupboard with no wand, no owl, and the prospect of some horrible program at St. Brutus's secure center for incurable criminal boys. He was trapped, enclosed by a cage that he could not escape.  
  
His head swarming with thoughts and worries, he drifted off to an uneasy sleep.  
  
****  
  
"Get up, boy, get up!"  
  
Harry's eyes opened, then closed quickly at the large amount of light that was entering cupboard; it was morning. Every part of Harry's body seemed to be aching; he was stiff from sleeping all night in a sitting position, and his bruised right arm was throbbing dully.  
  
Harry opened his eyes again and squinted into Uncle Vernon's purple face.  
  
"What?" he groaned, trying to stretch, but his arms only hit the sides of the cupboard.  
  
Uncle Vernon smiled evilly yet again. "Did you have a good sleep, boy?"  
  
"No," Harry said quickly.  
  
"Good, it's time to go."  
  
Harry was pulled unceremoniously from the cupboard and thrown just as roughly into the car.  
  
"It's your lucky day," said Vernon, his smile once again in place. "I was just able to sneak you in to St. Brutus's summer program. You should thank me. I think you'll have an excellent time there."  
  
Harry didn't answer, trying to sort out everything that was going on in his mind at the moment. It wasn't working. He couldn't figure out what to do. Normally, he had an escape route, a plan B, but this time, he was lost. He didn't know what was going to happen to him at St. Brutus's, but he knew that it wouldn't be good.  
  
"We're here," said Vernon maliciously, pulling Harry out of the car.  
  
The building in front of which they stood was the bleakest one Harry had ever seen. It was a huge grey box made entirely of stone. If there were any windows in the entire place, Harry couldn't see any of them, and there was only one door, which was some sort of black metal. Around the entire thing was a twenty foot high chainlink fence topped with barbed wire. To Harry, it looked like some sort of prison.  
  
Vernon grabbed Harry by his bicep and pulled him to a gate in the fence, which was flanked by two guards who didn't bother to hide their sub-machine guns.  
  
Vernon approached on of the guards. "Harry Potter," he barked. "He's here for one of the ... summer programs."  
  
"Yes, sir, we'll take him from here. Thank you sir," replied one of the guards curtly and roughly.  
  
The guard grabbed Harry hard at the same place Uncle Vernon had as Vernon walked back to the car and disappeared.  
  
The guard turned to him. "If you attempt to escape, I have the moral and legal obligation to shoot you, fag."  
  
Harry said nothing. Once again, he felt trapped, as he was dragged through the gate and to the metal door. The guard punched in a ten digit code, and the door swung open on its own.  
  
Harry was led through a maze-like series of corridors and stairs. He knew this was purposefully done; he would never be able to find his way back if he were to escape the custody of this guard.  
  
They found their way to a door labled "Homosexuals", underneath which somebody had scratched the word "fags". The guard opened the door and threw Harry inside. "Sit down and shut up," he said, before slamming the door shut.  
  
Harry rubbed his arm in pain and looked around the room. There were six chairs in the center of the room, four of which were occupied by boys about his age. They all looked nervous, and none of them spoke. Harry took one of the seats.  
  
They waited in silence, the tension eating at them.  
  
The door opened, and the guard that had led - or thrown - Harry into the room tossed in another boy, who fell onto the floor and slid four or five feet. He was tall and dark, with close-cropped black hair, and looked to be incredibly strong and built - he was gorgeous, and everybody in the room knew it. The door slammed shut. The newcomer scrambled to his feet and grabbed at the doorknob, attempting to pull it open, but it was locked.  
  
The boy turned to face the other five of them, looking like he was either about to speak or shout, but he just sat down in the last seat, right next to Harry. Harry looked at him, but just before he had a chance to speak, the door banged opened and a man entered.  
  
The new man had a demonic sort of look about him - tall, almost pointed ears, and a goatee that curled upwards, pointing at his chin. The man looked to be about forty, and looked extremely tired.  
  
He walked up to the line of occupied chairs and paced up and down it several times, obviously starting to form words in his head.  
  
"Welcome," he said, "to St. Brutus's Program for Incurable Homosexual Boys." Pause. "My name is Mr. Devici. You may address me as Mr. Devici or 'sir'. Nothing else is acceptable. Over the next eight weeks you will forsake your homosexual ways and become a respectible human being, not the scum you are now. There will be pain, but there always is; no pain, no gain. Are there any questions?"  
  
Harry raised his hand.  
  
"What?!" Mr. Devici shouted, as though he didn't want anybody to actually ask any questions.  
  
"Sir, what's the point of trying to 'cure' us, if were 'incurably homosexual'?"  
  
Mr. Devici stood in front of Harry for a moment, obviously pondering the question, then swung around and hit the dark boy next to Harry with the back of his hand. The boy fell off of the chair, clutching his face. Harry stared in shock.  
  
"Mr..." he checked a sheet on the clipboard he carried, "Mr. Trent, you have just paid for Mr. Potter's insubordinance. Mr. Potter, if you wish to hurt more of your peers, I suggest you continue to ask stupid questions like that."  
  
Nobody spoke. Mr. Devici addressed them all. "I will now show you to your dorms. You will have the rest of the day off, to introduce yourselves to each other and cry your eyes out, or whatever the fuck you want to do. This is the only free time you'll have during the duration of your stay here, so I suggest that you enjoy it."  
  
****  
  
I hope you liked it! Please review!!  
  
-AB 


	3. The Wallpaper Room

Holy cow. I've never gotten so many reviews so quickly in my life before...thank you so much to everybody! I can't answer them all, but...  
  
Irblise - You are correct to be keeping an eye on 'the gorgeous Mr. Trent'...who knows what will happen (besides me, that is)??  
  
Nokia - I hate them as well...and is there a good way to be evil?  
  
Ally - I'm terrible at coming up with reasons why Harry and Draco should be together; I just love the pairing, so you can come up with a backstory for it (there are tons of fics that explain it, so I didn't think one more would be very helpful).  
  
St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Homosexual Boys... by AnonymousBystander  
  
Chapter Two - The Wallpaper Room  
  
Harry looked incredulously at the matress once more, putting his hand against it a pushing down. It felt like carboard that had been dipped in water, dried, melted, reformed, and finally baked. Harry had difficulty trying in his own mind to describe what the matress exactly felt like. 'Uncomfortable,' he finally settled on, unable to think of something more descriptive.  
  
He pulled himself up to the top bunk and attempted to flop onto the bed, but when he did so, his already aching right arm hit against one of the steel bars underneath the matress that held up the top bunk. Instead of cushioning him, the matress seemed to just make the impact worse, and he cried out in pain. "Fuck," he muttered to himself, examining his throbbing wrist.  
  
The bed shook; somebody had just gotten onto the bottom bunk. Harry peeked his head down the side to look.  
  
The boy to whom Mr. Devici had referred to as "Mr. Trent" lay spread-eagled on the thin matress, eyes staring off into space. 'Showing off his amazing body,' Harry thought to himself.  
  
Harry held his hand down to Mr. Trent. "I'm Harry Potter," he said.  
  
Mr. Trent looked at him for a moment, then shook his hand briefly, saying, "Mike Trent."  
  
"Look," said Harry, "I'm sorry about before, with Mr. Devici. I didn't mean to--"  
  
"I know you didn't mean it," cut in Mike. Harry wasn't sure if Mike was rejecting him or being nice to him.  
  
One by one, the other four introduced themselves. Jon was a quiet boy with a great sense of humor - whenever he spoke; Robert was round-faced and tall with hair that was almost white and striking bright blue eyes; and Troy and Greg were identical twins, short with brown hair.  
  
"So," said Troy, when everybody had proclaimed who they were, "what are you all in for. Oh wait, I remember now, we're here for being who we are."  
  
"This is the stupidest thing EVER," said Greg, groaning. Everybody softly agreed.  
  
There was a moment of silence where everybody in the room stared up either at the bunk on top of them, or at the cold, grey ceiling, contemplating.  
  
"Anybody going to turn straight on us, here?" said Jon quietly.  
  
"No," everybody else replied instantly.  
  
"I'm a fag," said Mike, "and I'd prefer to stay that way, thank you very much."  
  
All of a sudden, the lights went out, and they were plunged into complete and utter darkness.  
  
"Well," said Troy bitterly, "we should get some sleep."  
  
Harry pulled off of his shirt and pulled the hard, scratchy rags that they called blankets up to his chin.  
  
He wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight.  
  
-----  
  
At six-thirty the next morning, the lights came on. Because there were no windows in the room, it was the first light that entered the room, and everybody woke instantly.  
  
"Aww, Jeez," called out Troy, shielding his eyes with one forearm. "Maybe they could have been a _bit_ more subtle?"  
  
"We're fags, remember?" said Greg. "They don't give a fuck."  
  
Everybody got out of bed.  
  
"Hey," said Jon, "are they going to give us anymore clothing?"  
  
At that moment, they heard Mr. Devici's voice through a speaker in the middle of the ceiling.  
  
"Good morning, gentleman," he called out. "You will be expected to be ready to depart from your room in less than fifteen minutes. You will wear the clothing in which you came. If you have any questions, show some restraint, and don't ask them." Click. The speaker went dead.  
  
"Well, that answers my question," muttered Jon.  
  
Harry slipped off of the top bunk and landed catlike on the ground next to the bed. He slipped on his shirt and pulled on his shoes; he hadn't bothered to untie them the night before.  
  
"Well," said Harry, "I'm ready."  
  
"Who's Draco?" muttered a voice behind him softly, so that only he could hear.  
  
Harry spun on his heal to come face to face with Mike. "How do you --"  
  
"You talk in your sleep," said Mike with a sheepish grin.  
  
"Oh," said Harry. "He's my boyfriend."  
  
"Ooh..."  
  
There was a slightly awkward pause.  
  
"He hot?"  
  
Harry considered for a moment. "Hell yeah."  
  
The door clanged open and two guards carrying uzis entered the room. "Follow, and do not attempt to run away," one of them barked.  
  
They followed the guards through yet another labyrinth-like series of hallways and stairways until they reached another room bearing a "Homosexuals" plaque on the door.  
  
"I feel right at home," Jon muttered as they entered the room.  
  
"Holy FUCK!" yelled one of the twins (Harry couldn't tell which one).  
  
A second later, as Harry was pushed through the doorway, he understood why they had said it. Every square inch of wallspace of the large room they were in was covered with a picture of a naked woman, or multiple naked women engaged in activities Harry didn't think were possible. He nearly gagged, it was so vile.  
  
A moment later, Mr. Devici entered the room, a smug smile firmly planted on his lips.  
  
"Welcome, boys, to the first stage of our operation here at St. Brutus's; this is called the Wallpaper Room, and you'll be here all day." He motioned towards six doors at the other end of the room (Harry hadn't noticed them before, because they were "wallpapered", just like the rest of the room). "Each of those rooms has a little surprise for you. Everybody enter one now, please. You will receive more instructions inside"  
  
They walked to the other side of the room and each entered one of the smaller rooms. The inside was small and cramped, and was decorated with exactly the same type of wallpaper as the other room. There was a large television screen - black, for now - right in front of an innocent looking wood chair.  
  
Harry closed the door behind him. As he closed it, he heard a lock click closed. He was trapped, like a ginea pig in some heinous experiment.  
  
"Thank you for entering the rooms," said Mr. Devici's voice through a speaker. "Please note that each of these rooms is monitored by camera and microphone, so if you do not comply with our instructions, we can...make you, and it won't be pleasant. Now, if you'd be so kind to remove your shirts."  
  
Knowing that they certainly could "make him", Harry complied, throwing the dirty shirt onto the floor.  
  
"Now, please drop your trousers and your underwear and sit down on the chair with your hands on the arms."  
  
What kind of sicko was this man? What on earth were they going to do with this kind of thing? Knowing it would be worse if he didn't, he complied with all of the instructions, laying his arms lightly on the chair's armrests. Immediately, some cleverly disguised metal hoops clicked into place, binding Harry's arms onto the chair. He tried to stand up, but the chair was bolted to the floor.  
  
"Shit," muttered Harry.  
  
"Thank you all," said Mr. Devici's voice. "You'll be here for the duration of the day. Enjoy your stay." Click, and he was gone.  
  
Then, the TV screen came to life.  
  
-----  
  
As was requested, I made this chapter longer (but it took me forever to write). I hope you like it. Review and I'll update again! 


	4. Signs

Wowie kazoweeee....I've never received so many reviews in my life! It means so much to me to hear that my writing is appreciated, so thank you SOOO much!!  
  
Kimmy15 - I have thought of that 'all of them alone in one room' scenario; don't worry, your answers will come...in time, that is ;).  
  
toonTownCutie - Not exactly, but that's an interesting concept....hehe.  
  
Spideria - Thanks for your enthusiasm (twice)! Of course there will be tension between Harry and Mike! (:-}) That's the only point of his character (but shhh, don't tell him that, he'll get angry.)  
  
St. Brutus's Program for Incurable Homosexual Boys....  
  
by AnonymousBystander  
  
Chapter Three - Signs  
  
"Ah, jeez. - Ah - ah - ah, jeez," moaned Troy, stumbling out of the Wallpaper Room.  
  
Harry felt exactly that way, and judging from the pale faces of Harry's peers, everyone else shared that sentiment.  
  
"Vile," groaned Mike. "Completely fucking _sick_."  
  
Two guards immediately appeared by them, the ever-present uzis at hand. Out of nowhere, Mr. Devici appeared, sick, smug smile plastered to his face yet again.  
  
"Aaahhhh... gentlemen! Glad you could be here! You have just survived the first day of our program - albeit, from the looks on your faces, you didn't survive it by much. Oh, but don't worry, my friends, it'll get much, much worse...you just wait...  
  
"Now, quickly, we've got to feed you. Follow me, if you please."  
  
Harry just realized it, but he hadn't eaten since the previous day, and from his estimate of the time (he'd counted the seconds while he was in the wallpaper room), it was about eight o'clock in the evening. He didn't feel very hungry, though; his time in the Wallpaper room had taken quite an edge off of his appetite.  
  
He ate, anyway, however, knowing that if he didn't, he'd regret it later, so he shoveled the bland, tasteless food into his mouth, sitting quietly as the other boys talked loudly, complaining about the food, the Wallpaper room, Mr. Devici, the guards, and just about everything else that they could complain about in St. Brutus's. (A/N - that was a runon sentence if I've ever seen one!) After Harry had been silent for a couple of minutes, Mike Trent slid over to sit across from him.  
  
"Penny for your thoughts?" Mike asked quietly.  
  
"Just - just thinking," said Harry, taken aback.  
  
"What about?"  
  
Harry wasn't exactly sure if Mike was flirting with him or not (he was never good at trying to figure out that sort of thing), so he said, "My boyfriend," keeping the malevolence to the minimum.  
  
"Oh," said Mike thoughtfully, "Draco?"  
  
"Yeah," said Harry.  
  
There was a long, awkward pause. Harry was relatively sure now that Mike was hitting on him. He was rather flattered, but didn't want to tempt Mike in any way.  
  
"I love him, you know," said Harry softly. "I really do."  
  
"That's great. I'm happy for you...I really am..."  
  
"Look -" began Harry awkwardly, unsure of what to say, not wanting to reject Mike, especially because he wasn't entirely sure that Mike was interested in him.  
  
"What?" said Mike curiously.  
  
Harry sighed. "Never mind."  
  
"Everybody up!" cried a guard. "Time for lights-out in twenty minutes! Let's go!"  
  
Harry, relieved that the awkward conversation was interrupted, stood up and took the trek back to the room where they slept.  
  
As they walked, Harry tried to sort out his thoughts. Sure, Mike was completely gorgeous, and showed many signs of being interested in Harry, but Harry knew that he must stay loyal to Draco...the thought seeing him again was the only thing that kept him going...  
  
They reached the room. Harry flopped onto his cardboard-thin "mattress" as Jon and Mike left for the bathroom to wash up.  
  
Troy and Greg, however, approached his bed, evil grins on their faces.  
  
"Out of complete curiosity," said Troy, trying to sound offhand and casual (but failing miserably), "are you completely oblivious to what Mike is doing..."  
  
"...or," continued Greg, "are you just completely, utterly, and unconditionally stupid to reject him?"  
  
Harry looked up, slightly incredulous. Where they joking? No, they looked serious now.  
  
"I -" stuttered Harry, "I have a boyfriend...whom I love very much."  
  
Greg and Troy looked at each other incredulously, then back at Harry, the same look still planted on their faces. "And what decend gay man doesn't sleep around?" asked Troy, looking at Harry with one eyebrow arched expectantly.  
  
"I'm in love with him," said Harry heatedly. "I will remain faithful. No matter what."  
  
-----  
  
Dear Hermione,  
  
I'm sorry to be so blunt in a letter, but I cannot delay in writing you and telling you about this. I know that we have never been the best of friends, and that we were almost forced to tolerate each other when Harry and I started dating, but I ask for your help and guidance today, as a friend, and as a friend in need.  
  
Harry hasn't written to me yet. It's been two weeks. I've sent him a letter every day, and he hasn't responded.  
  
Hermione, I'm worried. I know that if it were in Harry's power, he'd have written to me by now, which is why I'm so urgent. If it's not in Harry's power to get to an owl, something bad must be happening. I know that he has enough power over his Uncle and Aunt to use Hedwig, which means that he may not be under their control any longer.  
  
Please, Hermione, help me. Have you received any correspondance from Harry whatsoever? A clue, perhaps?  
  
Please write back, and quickly,  
  
Draco S. Malfoy  
  
-----  
  
Sorry it's so short! I find that my muse works better if I produce short chapters quickly than if I do long chapters over a short period of time.  
  
Yes, Draco's letter is a skip two weeks forward; the next chapter will begin then.  
  
Sorry, also, that I didn't tell you what was on the screens in the Wallpaper Room. I hope you can imagine by yourself what kind of disgusting pornography they would have there, so I didn't feel the need to describe it in detail.  
  
Thanks again to the reviewers! You mean so much to me, and I really feel more compelled to write when more people review, so please continue to do so, and I will update more quickly! 


	5. Urgency

Sorry this took so long...MAJOR writer's block!  
  
Thank you all for your reviews! I think after this chapter, I may top 100 reviews (if I do, I'll give you an extra long chapter, so make sure you review!) I've never had that many reviews before. Anyway, enjoy!  
  
St. Brutus's Program for Incurably Homosexual Boys...  
  
by AnonymousBystander  
  
Chapter Four - Urgency  
  
Draco looked at the letter one last time, skimming it over once more. Yes, it looked good. Friendly enough for her to respond, and concise enough so that she would know this was urgent. Not like he had any time to re-write it, he was so worried for Harry. He folden the letter hurredly and sealed it, embossing it with the Malfoy family crest.  
  
As he exited his bedroom to the hallway, the first rays of sunlight peaked over the Malfoy Manor's magnificent grounds and shot through the window, hitting Draco's face head-on. He squinted his eyes and turned away. Today should not be a day like this. Today should be dark, and gloomy, with periods of rain moving in from the northeast, and a high temperature of forty or so.  
  
Because Harry hadn't written.  
  
Draco slammed the door to his room, the newly sealed letter in hand, and wound his way through the corridors to the owlry. He met nobody on his way; it was still too early for his father or mother to be up, and none of the house-elves had come his way.  
  
Up he went, ascending the winding staircase up to the highest tower of the manor where they kept the family's owls. Eventually, he found the door to the owlry, and pushed it open. For an owlry, it was exceedingly nice. There was an ever-clean charm on the floor, so it was spotless and shining.  
  
He gave a shrill whistle, and his eagle-owl, Socrates, immediately flew down from the rafters and landed on his arm, beak held high, eager for an important mission or delivery.  
  
Draco tied the letter to Socrates' leg and carried him to the window, which had a charm to keep out rain and snow, but was also glassless to let the owls in and out.  
  
"Take this to Hermione Granger," he whispered to Socrates, stroking her long feathers.  
  
Socrates looked at him inquiringly, clearly asking, "To a Mudblood?"  
  
"Yes," said Draco, "to a Mudblood. Now go!"  
  
Socrates' wings spread wide and she swooped out of the window into the sunrise.  
  
"Draco!" barked a voice behind him. He wheeled around, finding himself face-to-face with his father Lucius Malfoy.  
  
"Yes, father?" said Draco, hoping against hope that Lucius hadn't heard that he was writing to a Mudblood. If he heard that, or even if he heard that Draco was dating Harry Potter, the punishment would be catastrophic; Draco doubted he would live through it.  
  
"You have written a letter every day since you got home. You're seeing somebody, it's obvious. Who are you writing?"  
  
Draco hated when his father was in this mood. Lucius was red-faced, squinting with anger, though he did not yet have anything to be angry about.  
  
"I'm - I'm not seeing anybody," said Draco lamely. "I'm just - just keeping up with my friends, that's all."  
  
Lucius grabbed Draco by the collar, nearly lifting him off his feet. "You always were a bad liar! Now, tell me who it is, or I'll make you..."  
  
"Pansy!" Draco yelled.  
  
"LIAR! If it was Pansy, you'd have already told me!" Lucius dropped Draco to the ground, and he fell over, hitting his head hard on the stone floor of the owlry. Seeing spots, he watched his fater exit the room, saying, "You disappoint me yet again, Draco. We'll have another chat soon..."  
  
-------  
  
Hermione looked curiously at the crest on the letter, trying to figure what person with the name of "M" would be writing him. She thought first "Malfoy", but why would Malfoy write her? He barely even spoke to her, though whenever he did, it was civilly. After all, he was in love with Harry.  
  
Hermione looked suspiciously at the letter for some time before slitting open the seal and unrolling the parchment.  
  
(A/N - For the text of the letter, see the previous chapter.)  
  
After she'd read it through one entire time, she gasped. Harry hadn't written. He was in trouble.  
  
What if he was dead already? What if Voldemort had gotten to him?  
  
Hermione's heart began to pound. She grabbed a piece of parchment and at first wrote: "Draco-", then she crossed it out and instead wrote:  
  
"Dear Professor Dumbledore,  
  
I appologize sincerely for having to write to you during the summer break, but the urgency of this situation requires immediate attention; I'm afraid that it cannot wait.  
  
Harry Potter has not written at all over the last few weeks, nor has he written to Draco Malfoy - his boyfriend, as I'm sure you're aware. Draco has written him every day, and I'm sure that if it was in Harry's power to respond, he would have already done so, which leads me to believe that he is not under the control of his Aunt and Uncle anymore.  
  
Again, I appologize for having to interrupt your holiday, but I'm very worried for Harry's safety.  
  
Thank you,  
  
Hermione Granger"  
  
-----  
  
Enjoy and please review!! 


	6. Advances and Foreshadow

WOOOOT WOOOOOT!!!! My first fic to cross one hundred reviews! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!! It makes me feel so good to see you write such positive things about my work.  
  
WARNING: in this chapter, there is some non-consensual stuff and some bad language; the fic is rated R. You've been warned.  
  
And, as promised, an extra long chapter:  
  
St. Brutus's Program for Incurably Homosexual Boys...  
  
by Anonymous Bystander  
  
Chapter Five - Advances and Foreshadow  
  
The letter was short and not very subtle:  
  
"Dear Mr. Malfoy,  
  
You will meet me and Ms. Hermione Granger at Hogwarts School on July 2 at 12:00. I have sent a letter to your father explaining to him that this is because you are to be made Head Boy - which is quite possible. He will accompany you to Hogwarts where you will meet with me to discuss the situation with Harry Potter.  
  
Thank you,  
  
Albus Dumbledore"  
  
Draco sighed and tossed the parchment onto his desk, looking around the room distractedly. July 2 was the day after tomorrow, and he was glad that they were finally doing something to find Harry, but he felt restless; he wanted to do something about it _now_. He hated having to sit up in his stupid room in the stupid manor with his stupid mother and his death-eater fucking stupid father.  
  
He wanted to be with Harry. It was all he longed for, to be able to hold him, and kiss him, and...  
  
But Harry was in danger - he thought - and he must do something about it.  
  
He felt trapped, just like Harry.  
  
-----  
  
Hermione felt very awkward telling her parents that she had to go back to school in the middle of the summer. Luckily, she'd invented a very good lie: there was a summer exam course that she'd be attending.  
  
"Everybody who's serious about the exam is taking it!" she explained to them only ten minutes after she'd received the letter from Professor Dumbledore.  
  
Of course, the thing that Hermione's parents wanted most from Hermione was for her to do well in school, so they immediately bought the lie and took her to King's Cross.  
  
It felt even more awkward sitting on the Hogwarts Express all by herself; it was making a special run just for her. She sat, straight-backed, and read the entire journey until the scarlet train pulled in to Hogsmede Station and she got off, starting to trek up to the castle.  
  
When she got up to the front doors, she knocked tentatively, usure of what to do. The doors opened by themselves, and Hermione walked into the Entrance Hall all by herself as the clicking of her shoes echoed throughout the entire hall like a mysterious tapdance.  
  
All of a sudden, there was a flash of silver and gold light, and a huge fireball appeared in the air, which quickly took form and solidified into a beautiful scarlett bird: Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix. Fawkes hooted loudly once and flew off up the Marble Staircase, leading the way to Dumbledore's office.  
  
When they found the door, Fawkes landed on the arm of a nearby statue and shook its tail feathers roughly.  
  
"You - you want me to grab on?" Hermione asked quietly.  
  
Fawkes nodded, so Hermione grasped the tail feathers, which grew steadily hotter and hotter until light exploded all around Hermione, heat and light and silver enveloping her in a spinning vortex of speed.  
  
Then, it stopped, and Hermione Granger found herself standing, quite flustered, in the office of Albus Dumbledore, still clutching Fawkes' golden feathers.  
  
----  
  
Darkness permeated throughout the room in which they slept, but Harry's eyes were open and his breathing quiet. He did not sleep here anymore. After one meal a day for a fortnight - each day spent in Harry's private booth in the Wallpaper Room, Harry's level of uncomfortableness had reached an all-time high for his entire life, and that included the time before his second year of Hogwarts when the Dursleys had locked Harry in his room for weeks with barely any food.  
  
There was a sound - a light creaking. He looked down, knowing what it would mean: Mike was out of bed. What he was doing, Harry didn't know. But then there was a thump: Mike's foot on Harry's trunk, and Harry's cardboard mattress sank as Mike's full weight fell down upon it. He closed his eyes, thinking, 'Please, God, don't let this happen.'  
  
He sat up. "What are you doing here?" he whispered accusingly.  
  
Mike lay down next to Harry, facing him, gazing into his eyes. Harry felt weak - but no, he must remain strong and faithful.  
  
"Draco will never know," Mike whispered into Harry's ear.  
  
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Mike's lips claimed his own in a searing kiss that made Harry breathless. Harry quickly went in for another one, deepening the kiss, all thoughts of Draco forgotten...  
  
"NO!" he shouted suddenly. "This is wrong!"  
  
"...then why does it feel...so right?" said Mike, pulling Harry in for another kiss. He tried to pull away, but Mike's body was so warm, and in just their boxers, he feld Mike's erection rubbing against his thigh...  
  
He was drawn in...  
  
-----  
  
Hermione looked around the room, finally letting go of Fawkes' feathers. It was as Dumbledore's office always was, except now, Draco Malfoy was standing nervously behind one of the chairs at Dumbledore's desk.  
  
"Ah, Miss Granger, do come in," said a smooth voice, Dumbledore's voice. "I will not waste time with pleasantries, because it seems you both are worried, and time is short, so I will cut straight to the point.  
  
"The only way to accurately assess Harry's current position is to use what is known as the Sentium Charm. When used in conjunction from two people who are closest to the target, those people can feel exactly what the target is feeling: pain, emotion, heat, etc.  
  
"It is too dangerous to use something more accurate, because it could give us away if Harry is in the control of Voldemort...but I don't think he is.  
  
"Let us start. You must stand next to each other, always keeping physical contact with the other to amplify Harry's feelings."  
  
----  
  
Harry felt his boxers slipping away from his waist, pooling at his ankles. A wave of pleasure washed over him as the two erections ground into each other, making him arch into Mike....  
  
----  
  
"I am now going to perform the charm, Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger."  
  
Dumbledore's wand raised...  
  
----  
  
Mike positioned himself outside of Harry's entrance, waiting, waiting...  
  
-----  
  
"_Sentium Sentiate!_" Dumbledore cried.  
  
-----  
  
Harry cried out in pleasure as he and Mike came at the very same time, cum filling him, and at exactly the same time...  
  
----  
  
Hermione and Draco cried out in a mix of pleasure and surprise as orgasms swept through their bodies, unexpected and unwelcome.  
  
"Oh Dear," whispered Dumbledore solemnly.  
  
-----  
  
It was dark. Lord Voldemort waited silently in the room. His servant was coming soon, yes, coming, and Voldemort would treat him well, as long as there was good news.  
  
Voldemort liked bearers of good news.  
  
A man walked into the room. He looked exactly like Stan M. Devici. But he was not. As soon as he stepped into the room, his skin began to boil, his insides quivering. In less than a minute, he had taken the form of Lucius Malfoy.  
  
"Appologies, my lord," he said, striding up to Voldemort's throne. "The polyjuice just wore off."  
  
"Indeed," Voldemort drawled. "So, Malfoy, I assume you have good news...?"  
  
"Yes, my lord. Potter is in place and ready."  
  
"And what of Dursley?"  
  
"As soon as we got his hair for the polyjuice potion, we modified his memory and replaced him in his home. Everything is in place, my lord, and I await your order."  
  
Voldemort thought for a moment. "Not yet. Dumbledore is suspicious. In a few days, we wil commence..."  
  
-----  
  
A/N - That's the closest thing I've ever written to a cliffhanger. I hope you enjoyed it! 


	7. Ill Conceived

I'm so sorry this has taken so long; I continue to have writer's block and ridiculous amounts of schoolwork to take care of. And I'm sorry for everybody who was pulling for Harry to resist Mike...he's only human, after all.  
  
Amazingly enough, this is the first fic that I've ever written that I actually know what's going to happen all the way to the end. All I have to concetrate on now is just getting the chapters out. Anyway, thanks for reviewing so much, and here's the next chapter...  
  
St. Brutus's Program for Incurably Homosexual Boys...  
  
by AnonymousBystander  
  
Chapter Six - Ill Conceived  
  
Albus Dumbledore surveyed Hermione and Draco closely, who were still unsteady and surprised by the coming of the unexpected orgasm, his normally clear eyes clouded with emotion and confusion. Thoughts scrambled around his head, grappling at each other, all of his suspicions possible, but more unlikely than the last. In what situation would Harry have an orgasm? True, it could be innocent masturbation, but if Harry was in danger, why would he masturbate. And if he wasn't in danger, why hadn't he written?  
  
One idea stood out in Dumbledore's mind more than any other. He knew of a type of torture that involved inducing orgasms, then stopping them right in the middle. It was truly a torturous method, and Dumbledore had known Voldemort to have used it before. Yes, this was likely the most reasonable explanation, but it meant Harry was in extreme danger.  
  
Finally, confirming this thought in his head, he spoke to his students, who were still breathing heavily. "Draco, Hermione, I'm not sure what this means. I have a feeling that Harry could be in great danger - possibly already in the custody of Lord Voldemort." The two gasped, not out of fear of hearing the Name, but in horror that Harry was in danger. "I am going to go after him, to try and save him."  
  
Draco stood up immediately, "I'm coming with you."  
  
"So am I!" Hermione said forcefully, also rising.  
  
"No!" said Dumbledore. "This is very dangerous. I don't know where Harry is, or what situation he's in, so we must be careful, and I cannot risk any student casualties, do you understand me?"  
  
Draco was steadfast. "Harry dueled Voldemort all by himself two years ago! I'm in love with him, and dammit, I'm going with you. Hermione's been his best friend since the first year, and she's coming too."  
  
Hermione looked at him, surprised that he had stood up for her, then looked back at Dumbledore defiantly.  
  
Dumbledore sighed deeply and looked away. "Very well," he said reluctantly. "I can see that there is no stopping you. You may come along, but I did warn you."  
  
Then Hermione said something that had been nagging at her brain for the past few minutes. "Professor," she said, "How are we even going to find Harry? He could be anywhere."  
  
To her surprise, Dumbledore smiled slightly. "I have my methods. This is a very useful spell."  
  
He pulled out his wand and grabbed a piece of old parchment sitting on his desk. Holding his wand perpendicular to the paper, he said, "Locate Harry Potter mihi!" From his wand tip, ink began to curl into very fancy, intricate letters, that spelled out, "St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, London."  
  
Draco lunged for the paper and cried out, "Let's go," but Dumbledore held him back.  
  
"No, Draco," he said. "We're going to have to go there well rested. It's late. You should get some sleep, and we can go in the morning."  
  
----  
  
Warm, so warm. Light hit Harry's face, but for a moment he stayed in that area of conciousness right between sleep and walkefulness, and he kept his eyes closed, wanting to prolong his rest. His back was pressed up against something warm and soft. Mmmm, he thought as he snuggled into the strong arms that held him.  
  
"Love you, Drake," he whispered.  
  
Then his mind hit full conciousness, and he realized that there was no way that it could have been Draco holding him. He turned over lightening-fast, looked into Mike's face, and screamed.  
  
"No!" he cried! "No...oh, god."  
  
Mike's eyes snapped open.  
  
"Morning, Harry," he yawned sleepily, leaning forward to kiss Harry.  
  
Harry pushed him away roughly, pain eating at his insides, tears starting to leak down his face.  
  
"What - what's wrong?" Mike stammered, taken aback by this behavior.  
  
"No," moaned Harry, pulling his knees up to his face, and sobbing. "I'm sorry, Drake. I'm sorry. Oh, god, please forgive me."  
  
At the crying noise, the other occupants of the room looked up and moved cautiously towards Harry's bed. Mike, with a guilty look upon his face, lay next to him, not realizing that both were naked, and that the sheet, in all of the activity, had been pushed down to the end of the bed.  
  
Troy leaned over to his twin. "I hope they don't realize that."  
  
----  
  
A/N - I hope you liked it. I'll try to get it out sooner next time. 


	8. Advancing Backwards

I'm sorry I take so long to update! I can never write, for some reason. I get muse-jolts every few weeks, and that's the only time I can write. Sorry!  
  
Oh and I'm sorry for what's about to happen to Harry...it's just part of the story. This is a really short chapter, even for me. Appologies.  
  
St. Brutus's Program for Incurably Homosexual Boys...  
  
by AnonymousBystander  
  
Chapter Seven - Advancing Backwards  
  
Morning did not come quickly enough for Draco, who slept restlessly in his bed in the Slytherin dungeon until five o'clock, when he awoke and got out of bed, pacing the common room for at least an hour - he had long since lost track of time because of all the thoughts flying around his head. It was all so confusing; it was times like these when he wished he had a penseive to keep all of his thoughts organized.  
  
After at least a half an hour of pacing and deliberating, there was a flash of fire in the air before him and a single scarlet feather fell to the ground in front of him; he was being summoned by Dumbledore. Immediately, he rushed out of the dungeon and took the marble stairs two at a time. He reached the gargoyle outside of Dumbledore's office out of breath to see Dumbledore standing there patiently. After a moment, Hermione Granger can skidding to a halt next to him, also breathing heavily.  
  
Dumbledore surveyed them both for a moment. "We're going to leave now," he said slowly. "I just want to impress upon you the danger of what we are about to do. It is more than likely that we are walking into a trap. The only reason that I am not insisting that you stay behind is because I am certain of the high-quality of your magical ability and your devotion to Harry. I suspect that you would attempt to go after Harry even if I insisted that you stay behind, so it's better that I am with you to protect you if necessary."  
  
Draco shifted nervously - he wanted to go, to save Harry. Dumbledore reached into his robes and pulled out the piece of parchment he'd used the previous night, which still bore the words "St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, London".  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Please take hold of this parchment, Hermione, Draco."  
  
They did so.  
  
Dumbledore pointed his wand at the parchment and said, "Portus ad locam hanc".  
  
There was a tugging feeling behind Draco's navel, the room swirled around him, and he vanished.  
  
----  
  
Lucius Malfoy burst through the door, chest heaving. Quickly, he fell to his knees and kissed the hem of his Lord's robes.  
  
"What is it, Malfoy?" hissed the unnaturally high voice.  
  
"My lord, Dumbledore is aware, he is on his way!"  
  
Voldemort hissed in rage. Several nearby vases exploaded in giant fireballs.  
  
"We must commence the operation immediately, Lucius. Get your men together. We leave in half an hour. Do not fail me."  
  
----  
  
Draco materialized in a room that was all grey. Dumbledore and Hermione soon appeared next to him. There were other people in the room. They were all gathered around a bed. And on the bed....  
  
----  
  
A/N Sorry for the cliffhanger!!!! 


	9. Pierced

Okay, okay, don't kill me. I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long. I've never had such a successful fic, and I felt really pressured to continue, but I couldn't think of anything to follow what I put in the cliffhanger at the end of Chapter 7. Finally I have found something to continue this. P.S., please don't kill me for what I'm about to do to Draco.  
  
Thank you to everyone who reviewed, you have inspired me to continue this fic. I love you all!  
  
St. Brutus's Program for Incurably Homosexual Boys...  
  
by AnonymousBystander  
  
Chapter Eight - Pierced  
  
The door banged open, the rusted hinges only barely keeping hold of the thick steel.  
  
It only took Mr. Devici and the three armed guards that entered the room a few short seconds to analyze the whole situation: two naked gay teens (that could only mean one thing, Devici knew instantly), three oddly-dressed mysterious newcomers, and an air of immense confusion as the rest of the boys dealt with the arrival of the three strange wand-bearers and the entrance of Mr. Devici himself.  
  
It only took Mr. Devici two seconds to order the guards to respond in what he felt was an appropriate, proportional manner.  
  
Fortunately, it took Albus Dumbledore less than that. His wand swished skyward, and an instant later, bullets screamed through the air where Harry, Draco, Dumbledore, and Hermione had been only fractions of a second earlier. The iron hit stone walls in a maelstorm of speed and fury, matched only by the expression on Mr. Divici's face when he saw (or, rather, didn't see) what had happened to the four people who had been inside the room only seconds earlier.  
  
Most overwhelmed of the youth was Mike, whose nerves were already high-strung because of Harry's denial of their obvious chemistry and his newfound rejection after their rather frenzied night. At the sound of the gunfire, he screamed, pulling the blanket over his bare body and pulling himself into a fetal position.  
  
Mr. Devici turned to his guards. "Take him...downstairs..."  
  
-----  
  
Harry's head was swirling, emotions and thoughts and stress and guilt flying around his brain overwhelming him. His state of mind was not helped when he hit the ground hard and fell down onto the hard cold stones, crushing his arm, which he was sure had already been broken by Uncle Vernon.  
  
Despite the nausia in his stomach - from the hard arrival and from the growing guilt he'd been feeling there ever since he woke up that morning - he sat up and looked at Dumbledore, whose expression was very grim. Dumbledore turned his head towards Draco; he was sitting in a chair facing away from Harry, not moving.  
  
"Dra--" he said, but Dumbledore shook his head every so slightly, and Harry stopped.  
  
Without speaking, the headmaster flicked his wand, and Harry was immediately clothed in robes. He was surprised at first - he hadn't remembered that he was naked.  
  
"Drake..." Harry whispered softly. At first, Draco didn't move. Then his torso moved forward, as though he was about to stand up and confront Harry. Harry braced himself.  
  
But Draco didn't stand up. His torso kept moving forward, and he slid sideways off of the chair, hitting the ground with a dull thud, unmoving.  
  
Blood was spreading silently from an open wound in Draco Malfoy's chest.  
  
-----  
  
A/N- I know you're going to kill me for this. Trust me, I love Draco just as much as the next guy. This is necessary for the story, though. I'm sorry. 


	10. Silently Screaming

Don't worry! Don't worry! He's not dead - well, not yet, at least. Don't kill me! Anyway, I've had a bunch of ideas, and I have a feeling that this fic is going to go on for a while - at least, until the seventh year begins.  
  
Thanks to everyone who reviewed (though I'd prefer next time if you didn't threaten to kill me :) )! I love you all. Thanks also to the people who corrected my spelling in the last chapter. I did realize it after I'd uploaded it, but I was way too tired to bother to correct it then...anyway...  
  
St. Brutus's Program for Incurably Homosexual Boys...  
  
by AnonymousBystander  
  
Chapter Nine - Screaming Silent  
  
"WHAT?!"  
  
Voldemort's screech echoed around the chamber, bouncing off of the cold stone walls. Lucius Malfoy cringed and took a small step back, centering himself, and praying that the Dark Lord would not throw a fit at what he was about to hear.  
  
"M-my lord," he said, "Dumbledore found out. I don't know how. He took Potter back to Hogwarts."  
  
The Dark Lord seethed, looking as though he could destroy all of London with just a glance.  
  
"Why didn't you stop them, Lucius?" Voldemort's voice was murderously quiet, a mere hiss.  
  
"He disappeared the moment after I entered the room, my Lord. I was just about to transport Potter to the room where It would take place, but they were already there."  
  
"'They', Lucius?"  
  
"Yes, my lord. I do not know exactly why, but my son was there, next to Dumbledore, as was the Mudblood," Malfoy said.  
  
"Granger," Voldemort hissed. She was high on the Dark Lord's hit-list, after Potter, Dumbledore, and a few high-ranking members of the Order of the Pheonix, she was a very important target.  
  
"Perhaps... Perhaps we can turn this into our advantage, Lucius," Voldemort continued. "The four of them, all at Hogwarts right now...with nobody else there..."  
  
Lucius gulped. "What about my son, my lord?"  
  
"I need to question him. Bring him to me..."  
  
-----  
  
"Professor... is he all right?"  
  
Dumbledore sat behind his desk, having just completed his tending to Draco in Hogwarts' hospital wing.  
  
"I - don't know, Harry. Normally, such an injury would be easy to heal, but when I transported us here, I used a very complex spell that is similar to Apparition, but I did not take into account his injury, which, because of one of the side-effects of the spell, closed completely around the bullet, which has punctured one of his lungs and is dangerously close to his heart. I've just called for Poppy, but she can't arrive until tomorrow. Until then, there's really... nothing we can do."  
  
There was a very tense pause. Then Dumbledore spoke. "Hermione, may I please speak to Harry in private?"  
  
Hermione stood up. "I'll go check on Draco." She left the room, closing the door behind her. Harry looked back at Dumbledore, apprehensive at the lecture he was sure was coming.  
  
"Harry, I do not know the whole story of what happened at St. Brutus's, nor do I want to. I want to tell you - as I'm sure you already know - that what you did was very, very foolish, and not just personally."  
  
"How so, sir?" Harry said, his voice cracking.  
  
"Your relationship with Draco was a very important one politically. The Malfoys are a very powerful family, and have very close ties with Voldemort, as I'm sure you know. It is very likely that your relationship with Draco will not continue after this."  
  
Harry knew it. He knew it, but it wouldn't sink in. He HAD to keep Draco, he HAD to.  
  
"In addition," Dumbledore continued, "it is possible, or even likely, that Draco will return to his father's political affiliation, and we will have lost a valuble asset."  
  
Harry nodded sullenly, the grief starting to overtake him.  
  
"I'm not trying to make you feel guilt, Harry, because I'm sure you already do. I am merely trying to say that after - and if - Draco wakes up, the situation here will be very delicate. Do you understand?"  
  
Harry nodded, and without asking permission, got up and left.  
  
----  
  
It was midnight.  
  
Or, at least Harry thought it was. It didn't really matter to him, anymore. Staring at Draco's pale, moonlit face in the hospital wing made time stop altogether.  
  
Harry felt sick, the turmoil inside him raging a constant war. He wanted to jump out of the window and die, or at least be in Draco's place, feel what it was like.  
  
Tears began to slide down his face.  
  
He was silent. And he was screaming.  
  
----  
  
A/N - review and there's more where that came from. 


	11. Dusk

I'm really sorry for the extra-long wait. So many people have reviewed and I feel incredibly badly not having posted a new chapter in so long, especially because all of my chapters are so short. Anyway, thank you all for your wonderful reviews, and I hope I can continue to post more regularly from now on.  
  
**St. Brutus's Program for Incurably Homosexual Boys...**  
by AnonymousBystander  
  
Chapter Ten - Dusk  
  
When dawn arrived, she found a particularly odd scene in the hospital wing of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Odd scenes turned up in this wing of the castle nearly every day, but as the sun's fingers peered through the stained-glass windows, they saw a more peculiar scene than usual. Draco Malfoy, comatose, though healthier than his previously near-dead state, lay silently in the farthest back bed in the cavernous room. The thin linen curtains that were pulled around the bed were semi-transparent and looked ethereal, even ghostlike, shimmering in the air. The seat directly next to the bed was occupied by the form of Harry Potter, captured in an uneasy sleep, mumbling random words as they traversed his dreams. Next to him, Hermione Granger sat, dozing softly as her head dropped onto Harry's shoulder. The heavy shadow that had settled over the two of them was not merely emotional; Albus Dumbledore had walked into the room to catch sight of this scene, and now stood over the two sleeping on chairs, a solemn look of resignation on his face.  
  
Dumbledore was used to being in the thick of things, in the center of everybody's attention. Though he had never quite liked being one of the most powerful wizards in the world (and thus, one of the most sought-after for advice), now he wished hat he were not merely a bystander in this situation. He wanted desperately for Harry and Draco's relationship to survive, but could not think of any way to help the situation; it was up to Harry and Draco themselves to fix the problem.  
  
Little did the boys know, Dumbledore though solemnly, but their actions in the coming days and weeks would have vaster implications than they could possibly imagine. Harry and Draco were two of the most powerful young wizards of their generation; losing Draco would be a huge loss, and Dumbledore hoped that Harry realized how important it was that they stay together.  
  
"This is about more than love," he whispered to himself. He hated seeing his students in this situation. Being the headmaster, most of the time he could fix any problem, confront any danger. But the most powerful danger - that of love - was the only one against which he had no power.  
  
Shaking his head, Dumbledore left the room.  
  
-------  
  
Lucius loved people recognizing him. He loved it more than anything. And because of this, after the man standing behind the counter at the Hog's Head had seen his face and given him a room free of charge, he was in an exceedingly good mood. The money didn't matter; Lucius had enough money to buy twenty Hog's Heads without breaking a sweat - it was the principle that mattered.  
  
With a flick of his wand, Lucius' luggage was hovering beside him as he walked up the rickety stairs towards the cold, grubby rooms he knew this place had. They were not fit for the dark Lord, but it was only the Hog's Head that was safe enough so he could stay there unnoticed.  
  
Inserting his newly-taken key into the lock, Lucius pushed open the door and stepped inside. Yes, this would have to do; it would only be one night, if everything went according to plan. Lucius lay down on the bed for a moment, which creaked beneath his weight, then sat up. He would need to sleep well tonight to prepare for the next day; the spells he would perform were exceedingly difficult to do without anybody noticing. Though he was confident in his ability to perform the spells correctly, he was taking no chances. On his way back downstairs, he slipped the owner of the inn twenty galleons to not report any unusual sounds or goings-on. The man gulped stupidly at the sight of all of the gold, and then stammered a hurried, "Yes, m'lord. Whatever you say..."  
  
Lucius smiled. It was almost time.  
  
----  
  
Harry woke with a start. The sun had risen, and judging by the angle of the light streaming through the open hospital wing's, it was nearly noon. Harry looked around. Hermione sat next to him, fast asleep, breathing quietly. Looking in the other direction, he saw that the curtain's to Draco's bed were closed. He half-wanted to open them up and look at Draco, but he knew this was a bad idea.  
  
Instead, he decided that he needed to take a walk to sort things out. He stood up and stretched, then walked down the hospital wing, trying to make as little noise as possible as he opened and closed the heavy wooden door.  
  
Harry didn't know where he was going, but it felt good to walk. The weight of his stress was overwhelming and as he wandered the familiar hallways, passing by doorways and memories of classes that seemed so distant and unimportant, but he felt better than when he was in the hospital room, so trapped up with all of his feelings and emotions.  
  
Not realizing where he was, Harry stopped in front of a large painting of a bowl of fruit. Something stirred in his mind.  
  
"_You just tickle the pear..._" said a voice in his head. It sounded like Fred or George.  
  
He reached a finger up and tickled the pear. It began to laugh and squirm, and suddenly a bright green doorknob sat before him, waiting to be twisted. Harry reached up a hand and turned the knob, pushing the door open.  
  
"HARRY POTTER, SIR!" said a loud, squeeky voice in the room. "WE DIDN'T KNOW YOU'D BE COMING TO SEE US, SIR! OH, HOW GOOD TO SEE YOU, SIR!"  
  
"Dobby...?"  
  
-----  
  
That's it. Hope you liked. Review if you want more. I know, not much happened in this chapter, but I got a lot out of my system. Trust me; there's more to come. 


	12. Midnight

Hurrah, for I am now updating on a semi-regular basis. Thanks for the reviews; you guys rock. And I promise: more is going to happen in this chapter.  
  
**St. Brutus's Program for Incurably Homosexual Boys...**  
  
by AnonymousBystander  
  
Chapter Eleven - Midnight  
  
Lucius Malfoy stood behind a large, mangled tree at the edge of the Forbidden Forest on the Hogwarts grounds, looking up at the dark castle that stood like a menacing shadow, striking into the horizon. It had been a difficult journey, walking through the heart of the forest particularly, but he knew that this was the only way he'd be able to get onto the grounds undetected, especially because Apparating was not an option. He knew that the most difficult part of this operation was yet to come, but he also knew that it was vital that this task was completed; he had to talk to his son. He had to know why Draco was here, of all places, and why he was there with Dumbledore, Potter, and the Mudblood.  
  
One other thing that Lucius Malfoy knew was that he had to be careful. Dumbledore was not his only worry. He knew that Potter and Granger were exceedingly powerful for their age-level - more powerful than even they knew. The Dark Lord had been watching Granger for the year after she was born - the year before Voldemort fell. Lucius shivered: the Dark Lord's greatest enemies, greatest fears, and greatest targets all resided in that castle. Soon, very soon, the Dark Lord would see to it that all of these people were destroyed. But this was not the time. Now, Lucius Malfoy had to talk to his son.  
  
He stepped out from behind the tree, making sure that his invisibility cloak was securely fastened around him, and started to walk quickly, determinedly up to the castle. The night was warm; crickets were chirping cheerfully all around him, unaware of the tension in the castle and of Lucius' plot to break in. However, he did not let these distractions get to him: his mind was set clearly on his task, and breaking into the castle would be incredibly difficult.  
  
But, like his Master had said, it had to be done.  
  
----  
  
As Harry took a sip of Dobby's strong, hot tea, he realized that he'd never tasted anything better in his life. The warmth spread through his veins to his fingertips and to his toes, more than chocolate could ever do. He sipped again and let it burn his tongue before swallowing it. He deserved pain. He deserved to be tortured. Right now, he hated every bit of himself. How could he possibly have done what he'd done? He'd lost control, and now, he knew, he would pay dearly for it.  
  
Without thinking, he downed the rest of the tea in one gulp, and sputtered as it burned its way down his throat. And yet, he did not feel the pain as he wished he could. Instead, he felt oddly light-headed.  
  
"Dobby," he said, turning to the house-elf suspiciously, "did you happen to put anything else in this tea."  
  
Dobby looked shifty, and Harry already knew what the answer was.  
  
"Well, Harry Potter, Dobby thought that Harry Potter could use some time to take - to take his mind off things, Dobby thought. So Dobby - So Dobby put in some - some -"  
  
"Some what?" said Harry, already suspecting the response.  
  
"Odgen'soldfirewhiskey," Dobby said very fast.  
  
Harry turned away. The last thing he needed was to forget, to feel light-headed. Harry wanted to hurt himself as bad as he possibly could. The only thing stopping him was the thought that if Draco were to wake up, Harry would need all of his strength to prove his love.  
  
Tears began to spill from Harry's eyes.  
  
It hurt him to hear himself think the words "if Draco were to wake up"...  
  
----  
  
_Step one: complete,_ thought Lucius Malfoy as the lock to the huge wooden front doors of the castle clicked open, and he pushed one side in, letting a beam of moonlight fall onto the Entrance Hall floor. This was the real challenge; he knew that the doors were often protected by more than just a lock. Indeed, the spells protecting the lock were very powerful, but Lucius had no trouble dispensing with them.  
  
He tiptoed accross the entrance hall, the invisibility cloak swishing behind him. The only problem was that he had no idea where Draco might be. He thought he might possibly be in the dungeons, in the Slytherin common room, and so he chose to bypass the main marble staircase and headed towards the smaller, stone staircase that descended into the castle's lower levels. He had just begun to walk down when a voice spoke.  
  
"Lucius..."  
  
Lucius whipped around, drawing out his wand. When he had turned, he found him wand pointing straight at Albus Dumbledore.  
  
"Dumbledore," Lucius acknowledged coldly, noddly curtly.  
  
"Your son is not down there, Lucius," said Dumbledore, fixing his eyes upon the Death Eater and not moving them. He was calm, his wand was tucked into his robes. He was not prepared for a duel.  
  
"Kidnapped him, have you?" spat Lucius.  
  
"Not quite, Lucius," said Dumbledore quietly. "Draco is here by his own free will. He came to me. However, at the moment, he is not in a state at which he may talk to you."  
  
"Why the fuck not?!"  
  
"This is a hall of learning, Lucius, if you please. Draco is in the hospital wing. It is unclear whether he shall be waking up anytime soon, if at all."  
  
"Liar!" shouted Lucius. His cry echoed off of the stone.  
  
Dumbledore smiled grimly. "The great weakness of the Death Eater," he said, "is not his alleigance to evil, but his inability to accept what he does not wish to."  
  
Lucius had had enough. Dumbledore had no wand. Lucius swung his wand around and shouted, "_Stupefy_!"  
  
A jet of red light shot from the wand and arched up the staircase...  
  
And hit Dumbledore hard in the chest.  
  
----  
  
I was planning on this chapter to be longer; in fact, I know what's going to happen, but I thought I'd leave you with that nice little cliffhanger. I'll only continue if you review. 


	13. Dawn and Dark

Okay guys, I have temporarily fixed my computer and I am able now to post at least one more chapter.  
  
Now, I know that I usually don't specifically address comments/reviews, but one certainly caught my eye, and so I must respond to **sssh**.  
  
**sssh**: I am gay. That sounded like a come-on. Wanna fuck? I have an enourmous cock that I'm sure you'll love.  
  
Sorry for that; I just had to do it. And now, back to the story:

**St. Brutus's Program for Incurably Homosexual Boys**   
by AnonymousBystander  
  
Chapter Twelve - Dawn and Dark  
  
_A jet of red light shot from the wand and arched up the staircase...  
  
And hit Dumbledore hard in the chest..._  
  
...and bounced off, deflected by a sort of mystical energy that had surrounded Dumbledore. The spell ricochéed off of the stone walls, nearly hitting Lucius, who ducked and allowed the stunner to soar past him down the staircase.  
  
"I am ashamed of you, Lucius," Dumbledore said clearly, loudly. "I thought you had at least one scrap of dignity. Clearly I was mistaken. Now, I shall have to ask you to _leave my castle_."  
  
Lucius was about to shoot back a response when an incredibly tired but extremely happy Hermione Granger skidded to a halt right behind Dumbledore, yelling, "Professor!!"  
  
But then she stopped, and, looking around, took in the intense oddity of the situation. There were a few moments of terrible, tense silence, in which all three people looked around at each other. Then, Hermione spoke, very quietly, two words: "Draco's awake."  
  
Without another word, all three of them forgot the quarrell and started racing towards the Hospital wing.  
  
-----  
  
The first thing Draco felt was in intense pain. He chest did not feel like it was on fire; no, it was much worse than that. There was a sharb, slicing throb that nearly drove him mad as it pulsed through his heart and his entire body. His head, however, did feel like it was on fire. It burned him, cutting deep into his soul. He screwed up his eyes, trying to block out the light as he attempted to sit up. It was a failed attempt.  
  
Blinking, bewildered, he tried to remember why he was here, why he was in more pain than he'd even experienced in his entire life.  
  
And then he remembered. The bullet. The spell. And...  
  
The betrayal.  
  
A wave of sickness washed over Draco like he'd never felt before. Harry, his Harry, in bed with... He couldn't think about it, couldn't conceive it, it was irrational, impossible.  
  
This was _his_ Harry.  
  
The Harry who loved him.  
  
Or was it...?  
  
Had Harry really truly loved him. Had he just tricked Draco, played him for a fool, maybe, even, on Dumbledore's orders in order to get Draco to turn to the light side.  
  
Had it all been a trick? A game to Harry?  
  
"DRACO!"  
  
It was Harry's voice. Harry was there. Harry had seen him awake. What would Draco do? What _could_ he do?  
  
The hangings of Draco's bed were ripped open, and Harry apeared. Draco winced as the new light smashed into his eyes and fed his nearly unbearable headache. Harry was silhouetted in the bed's frame. Harry with his adorably messed up jet black hair, even more attractively disheveled because he'd slept in a chair for the past week. Harry with his glasses askew, anxiously gazing at Draco's lying form. Harry the betrayor. Harry the cheat.  
  
Draco felt no empathy. He was just a game to Harry.  
  
"Draco!" Harry was half-shouting hoarsely. "Oh, Drake. Drake, I was so worried about you. So worried! Oh, Drake, thank god you're okay! I missed you so much!"  
  
Harry grabbed Draco's hand, but he instinctively recoiled and said nothing.  
  
"Drake...?" Harry said quietly, almost pleadingly.  
  
But just then, three new people entered the room. It was Hermione Granger, followed quickly by Albus Dumbledore, and Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy. Draco didn't have the time nor did he make the effort to recognize the oddity of the scene, but somewhere deep within him it registered.  
  
"Draco!" all three of the newcomers said at once. As one, they rushed over to the bed, shunting Harry to the side.  
  
"Draco," said Hermione quietly. "How are you?"  
  
But something harsh, something dark, was clawing through Draco, pushing through his soul.  
  
And he lashed out.  
  
"How _dare_ you talk to me like that, you filthy mudblood!"  
  
Harry and Dumbledore gasped; Lucius smirked.  
  
Then Draco turned to Harry. Instead of yelling at Harry, as Harry expected him to do, Draco simply leaned in close to Harry's ear and whispered, "Don't _even_ touch me again, _Potter_."  
  
Draco pushed the covers away from his body and stood up, ignoring the searing pain in his chest and head, and knowing full-well that he probably shouldn't be walking right now. Nevertheless, Draco began to stride across the Hospital Wing towards the exit, calling behind him, "Come, Father. We're leaving."  
  
And as Harry watched them go, his life crumbled and fell to his feet in shambles.  
  
----  
  
I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It had to be done. Review and I'll update (assuming that my computer survives). 


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